Angels of Our Nature
by sarcasticallydelicious
Summary: Though she might not like it, her sister was the only one who could understand.
1. Strangers in a Strange Land

Perseverate v. 1: to repeat or recur persistently, 2: to go back over previously covered ground

* * *

Morgana took a long pull from her tankard. The ale tasked foul, and she had found years ago that the amount needed for it to take its purported effect was so great that it was easily outweighed by the other side effects: namely, the sour aftertaste that lingered for days. Still, she emptied the vessel and signaled for another.

Across the table, her sister did not drink. When the waitress had approached their table, a single look had been enough to stun the poor girl into silence. Even with her wings folded behind her and without her massive armor, Kayle still cast an imposing figure. Morgana had likely been nicer to the girl than she would have been otherwise. She had been on the receiving end of those looks many times in the past, and was honestly surprised the mortal had the fortitude to bring Morgana her drinks with such efficiency.

Kayle had sat in sanctimonious silence while Morgana emptied three tankards, occasionally turning her disapproval to the target-rich environmental of the rest of the bar. The lighting, of course, was below par, as a pointed glance at the murky magelights informed her, and the thoroughly human smells of grease and cooking meat were so obviously distasteful, as evidenced by the slight wrinkling of her nose. And, heaven forbid, a table by the window actually dared to _laugh_ in her presence.

Morgana had not chosen this tavern specifically to irk her, but she allowed herself a smirk at the results nonetheless.

"Why have you asked me here, Morgana?" Her sister's voice came out clipped and precise, easily cutting through the noise. "We have little left to talk about, after all these years."

Morgana supposed that was true. She knew her sister better than she knew herself. So she also knew that choosing this setting would only repel her. Perhaps the fallen angel had intended to sabotage this insane attempt to restart some relationship not involving swords and spells.

Still, she had a question that had been bouncing around in her head for the last few months, one she really had no one else she could ask. Perhaps the alcohol had more of an effect on her than she'd imagined, or perhaps it was simply that she had wanted it to that allowed it to loosen her otherwise controlled tongue.

"Do you ever feel like you're trapped in a time loop?" she asked her sister, stretching her wings unconsciously and taking another swig from her cup. "That you rush to each match despite knowing it will be just the same as the one before, and will in reality accomplishing nothing at all?"

Kayle, of course, simply stared at her with that judgmental gaze that had at some point become her resting expression.

Sighing, Morgana emptied this tankard as if she'd not already drank enough to kill an ordinary mortal already and set it down with finality. She waved away the girl when she inquired if the angel would be having another. "Forget I said anything," Morgana mumbled, chair scraping against the floor as she pushed herself up.

Her sister did not look at her, instead signaling their waitress to bring Morgana another mug. Morgana didn't sit, but did raise an eyebrow.

"These mortals do not understand," Kayle stated slowly, "it is as if time is a resource to them, and one always in short supply."

She stopped until Morgana had cautiously retaken her seat and busied herself with yet another ale.

"Just last match, LeBlanc mentioned the span of her plots, and…"

Kayle continued speaking, voice still strictly controlled, but with a note that reminded Morgana of times ages ago. And while she listened raptly, grateful to for once hear her own thoughts on her sister's lips, she also reminisced of times when she thought the angel could not still hurt her so deeply.


	2. Memories

Hoosegow n. jail

* * *

Morgana stood in the center of the heavily runed circle. She had been testing her magic against it subtly for the last couple of days.

Her sister interrupted her latest attempt, the brilliant gold of her armor lighting the dim room and catching on the gold trim of Morgana's clothing and the gold of her hair.

She had come alone. That was a surprise. When she stopped to remove her helmet, that was another. The expression the missing helmet revealed, though, that most certainly was not.

Kayle paced around her captive sister, wings tense sails behind her. Finally, she rounded on her, eyes blazing.

"Why would you do this?" Kayle yelled, flame bursting into existence in the air around her. Her wide gestures were the clearest indication of emotion Morgana had seen from her in a century or so. Still, the wild intensity in her eyes was intimidating, to say the least. "You had everything you could want! Why would you betray me for those…deviants?"

Morgana watched her sister carefully. She knew giving any answer but the one Kayle desired would make no effect whatsoever, but she needed to at least try for her own peace of mind. "Have you ever felt stifled, sister?" she tried. "Like you could make something so much better, if only you had the means of doing so?"

"Of course I have," Kayle replied iciliy, the flames dissolving around her. "What do you think I've been doing all this for? After so many millennia we are finally on the verge of a safe and orderly world. Why would you jeopardize that?"

Morgana sighed. So typical Kayle, so certain of her one righteousness she missed the obvious.

"If I were anyone else," Morgana asked, though she already knew the answer, "would you even be giving me this much of your time?"

She saw her sisters face twist in tortured rage. Or maybe she imagined it, Kayle's face being hidden almost instantaneously by her helmet.

"No, I would not," Kayle said shortly, and set Morgana's wings ablaze.

* * *

The runed jail burst too as the flames hit, exploding in a burst of light that blinded Morgana's captor. She escaped with her life and resolve intact. Her wings…her wings were a small price to pay.


	3. Understanding

Categorical adj. 1: absolute, unqualified, 2: of, relating to, or constituting a category

* * *

"Sister," Kayle said stiffly, hands planted on either side of an untouched mug of ale. "Please explain to me the Ionian philosophy."

Morgana frowned. While these meetings had become far more casual over the past few years – perhaps the humans' concept of time was affecting them – but she had not expected it to have progressed this far. Both she and her sister were far too stubborn.

And by "far" she meant demanding answers rather than simply demanding that Morgana change.

She supposed it was an improvement.

Morgana crossed her arms. "Why are you asking me? Wouldn't you be better off asking one of them?" She knew the answer, but probably she just wanted to hear it from her sister's lips.

Kayle sighed, fidgeting slightly, though somehow appearing just as stiff as usual. "Their answers give me no clarity. I hoped that you…coming from a similar background…might be better able to translate their ways. And you understand them better than I do."

 _That's because you're a tyrant with no sense of empathy_ , Morgana thought. She didn't voice it though, as she would have several years ago. Besides, Kayle was right. She did understand the humans better than her sister, probably because she acknowledged there may be something to learn from them. But then, freedom was the human's natural order. Perhaps that and their magic was all she was drawn to.

"Maybe it's because they value free thought." It was toned down, but she could not simply let her sister believe she would get something for nothing, as she was so used to. "And understand that freedom includes the freedom to act out of bitterness for things past. I am not bound to answer your every demand, sister."

Kayle's features hardening instantly. There was a loud crack as the table split under her barely moving fists.

* * *

The conversation continued outside. As much as she enjoyed watching her sister getting thrown out of anywhere, it continued to surprise her the type of things that got humans riled up.

And if she was the one who understood them better, perhaps a bit of empathy was warranted.

They walked to the edge of the town, leaving the flickering orange light for the clear silver of the moon's. Kayle stretched her wings awkwardly, obviously fighting the urge to take flight but resisting for what could only be Morgana's sake. Staring straight ahead of her, she said, "I will give you a feather for your knowledge. I do not like not understanding."

And while Kayle had never understood her, or tried to, Morgana held her tongue. After such a powerful gesture, it would have sent the wrong message.

Instead, Morgana too stared at the night sky. It seemed so much farther away, here. She crossed her arms and said, "Fine. But it has to be a nice one. I don't some ratty down feather."

The look Kayle gave her made her sister look a century old again, small and chubby-faced and pouty. Morgana dug her nails into her arm hard enough to pierce the skin.

But true to her offer, her sister reached into her luscious wings and plucked out a single perfect feather. It gleamed in the moonlight, the silver light tracing out the flawless curves. She held it out to Morgana in a curt motion.

Morgana's hand shook a little as she reached out to take it. The feather weighed next to nothing in her outstretched hand, but she knew better. She stashed it away carefully.

"So," she began, eyes tracing the lines of distant stars, "Ionia."


End file.
